In one of our most memorable games French beat me, Sweaty, and Pancake. It gets worse; the day he beat us he had his arm in a sling. He'd broken his collar bone in a wrestling match. He showed up with one arm tucked inside his jean jacket. He was just too fast on his skates (and Pancake was a brutal goalie).
Bruce Fish usually sat on the sidelines, as he'd often get hurt. When he did play with us he'd use really beat up skates, and he'd shove phonebooks up his pant legs then tape his jeans. Most days Bruce Fish would forget about the game and just skate around.
French showed up to one game with a whole bag of extra gear for Bruce Fish. He'd gone to a couple of local rinks and rooted through the lost and found. Everything was mismatched, but Bruce Fish looked pretty sharp with shin pads, gloves, Bruins socks, and proper skates.
I believe that Bruce Fish and French were the champions of the Pond Hockey League that season.
10 comments:
I love your friends, and reading about them makes me feel better.
Please call Rose and ask her to pray for me this weekend.
Nothing like a PHL championship to salve the pain of a puck off the shin!
Phonebooks! Love it! We could only use the Sears Catalogue.
Merry Christmas!
Fish and French. I love these stories. Thanks for reminding me we can live in a dangerous world and survive and THRIVE.
nice....we used to have a pond through the woods from my parents house and go there to play once it froze...great story man...
i think Jesus is a lot like French. and i love that bruce stuck phone books up his jeans... classic stories, ollie. i'm so glad you link with imperfect. merry christmas friend!
There is something spiritual about pond hockey. Something exquisitely real. Good story Olie.
I'm not sure why, but this reminds me of George Bailey and his friends...
"...so it remained pretty exclusive." you got me laughing here and then again with every following paragraph.
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